


Breathe You In

by RoxieFlash



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-10 17:55:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/788497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoxieFlash/pseuds/RoxieFlash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Does she think he doesn't grieve for the man he could have been?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe You In

Almost two months have passed since Christmas and the destruction of the Daleks and Bad Wolf, and he almost thinks things are getting back to normal. He coaxes a smile from her at every opportunity, and it's so much easier, now, like some invisible barrier between them has been lifted, and all the things he wanted to say, once, tumble easily from his lips where before he could only widen the distance further.

The headiness of that new closeness makes him dizzy, and that's why he almost misses it. Almost misses the way she slips away, one afternoon, while he's busy researching the history of Firaxis XI's monarchy. He doesn't notice her absence for hours and hours, until he's hurrying through corridors, checking every room and closet, each step becoming more and more hurried as she just refuses to turn up. They're in the Time Vortex; there isn't any possible way she could have simply left the TARDIS.

When he finally finds her, it's in one of the old maintenance rooms. Not a necessary fixture, just a little hallway, really, connecting the environmental controls to the ship's unnecessarily large cargo floor. It had once been a favorite haunt of his, to go and think when something became particularly overwhelming. Rose called it brooding, and always managed to draw him out of it, and after a while he'd begun to disappear there just so she'd come and find him.

The first thing he notices is that she's been crying; messy black streaks track her face and she trembles pitifully with her back turned to him. Even before this body that particular sight always paralyzed him; now it's practically unbearable. He's halfway to her when he realizes that she's draped in a quite old and battered leather jacket. The next few steps are slower, more deliberate, as he tries to figure out the best way to approach this. Not just any regular heartbreak, this.

Slowly, softly, he reaches up to wipe the traces of mascara from her face. He remains quiet - fond as he is of words in this body, that might still be foreign to her. So as she stands in front of him, looking beautiful and brave as she does her best to seem unaffected, he draws her to his chest and slips his arms underneath the jacket, pressing her flat against his chest. He presses a kiss to her forehead, feels her burrow into his chest, feels her press her ear to it like she's listening.

After a few long moments, he leans down to whisper. It's a longer lean than it used to be - this fellow he is now, this fellow who feels more like him than any him ever has - brushes a thumb across the shell of Rose Tyler's ear, and in a voice drifting just barely towards Northern, says, "I'm so glad I met you."

The teary smile he receives in return is the most precious gift he could've asked for.

"Me, too.


End file.
